The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1251 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The tears continued to drip from my face as I held on to Tom’s hand talking to him, trying not to reveal my own fears that he might not make it. I wiped my face on the back of my hand and then went back to trying to help him.

In previous attempts, the power had surged through me, this time it felt different, very gentle as if too much would do more harm than good, or in my semi-paranoid state, that perhaps it was preparing him for something other than recovery, a subject I tried my hardest to push from my mind.

I was aware that Simon came to watch me for a short time, I felt him rather than saw him and for a moment the energy surged–perhaps his own had contributed to mine. I stayed focused for maybe an hour trying to help the energy go where it was most needed. Sometimes I get an impression of what happened to someone or what’s happening within them, with Tom I half expected to hear the skirl o’ the pipes, as he’d put it, instead there was just a sense of calm, which surprised me.

I felt the energy running down, but then it was five o’clock in the morning and I’d been awake all night, although curiously, I didn’t feel especially tired. As I left I went to find the nurse, “Is there anywhere I can get a cuppa, tea or coffee, I’m parched.”

“There’s no one in the restaurant at the moment, just some vending machines, but the coffee’s quite drinkable.” Her voice rose in pitch at the end of the sentence, which confirmed she was Aussie. “Say, what was that little blue light you were holding–what was that all about?”

“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“If I tell you, please promise that you’ll keep it to yourself.”

“Why–what’re you gonna tell me? It’s not something illegal, is it?”

“No, you’re a very special lady.”

“Me, you’re joking?”

“I’m not. You can actually see love.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“When I was sitting with Daddy, I was trying to send love into him to help him recover more quickly. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.”

“You’re a healer, aren’t you?”

I shrugged.

“Look, I’ve seen aboriginals do all sorts of strange things including curl up an’ die when there was nothing wrong with them, just ‘cos someone told them they would. But I’ve never seen someone producing a blue light like you did, from your hands and your chest.”

“My chest?”

“Yeah, like it was coming straight out of your heart.”

“Maybe it was, I love him to bits.”

“Your father?”

“Yes, he’s a lovely old man, wouldn’t hurt a fly unless he was doing experiments on it.”

“Experiments? I know where he could find a few billion to play with.”

“He’s a professor of biological sciences.”

“Jeez, he’s still working?”

“Yes, it’s what keeps him going. He’s past retirement age but they keep him on because he’s such a well known figure in academia.”

“I know you, don’t I?” she stood back from me, and I hoped she wasn’t going to say the magic words, You tube, “Have you been on the TV?”

“A while ago.”

“I knew it, don’t tell me–it wasn’t Eastenders, was it? No, something with animals in,” I watched her eyes moving as she did a trans-derivational search–well that’s what they call it in psychology. “Some sort of mouse, cute little buggers, I remember that–dormice.”

“Your memory and recall is very good.”

“Where can I see one round here? They were soooo cute.”

“They’re hibernating at the moment, so nowhere I’m afraid, unless you settle for a stuffed one at the Natural History Museum in South Kensington.”

“No, I want to see one running about.”

“They don’t in daylight unless they’re disturbed, they’re nocturnal.”

“Oh yeah, I remember now, you fell over that log in the dark.”

They’d kept one of my blunders in the film, arguably the whole thing was one big one, but it covered its costs and made a little profit too, mostly for the Beeb, but we won’t talk about that.

“Yes, but please don’t ask to see the bruises.”

She stood there for a moment and I thought I’d said the wrong thing, then her mouth crinkled and she roared with laughter. “You Poms are so funny.” I didn’t reply on the grounds it could have seen as racist, but it was to do with Australians and cricket.

“I’m going to get that coffee and then if it’s alright, I’ll come back and zap him some more, before the day shift starts.”

“They’ll be on at seven.”

“Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Simon was snoozing in a chair, I touched his bum and he flew out of the chair ready to hit the culprit, when he saw me, he glowered then he laughed. “I don’t do that when you touch mine,” I said and he shook his head.

“It’s different for girls, they like it.”

“Are you telling me or asking?”

“What’re we doing now?”

“Talking, but I’m going to get a cup of vending machine coffee which has been recommended by Billabong Betty.”

“Who?” the red mark down the side of his face where he’d been leaning on his hand, didn’t help his appearance.

“The Aussie nurse looking after Tom.”

“It’s not Earl’s Court, is it?” he asked as we walked up to the restaurant.

“Earl’s Court? That’s where they used to do the bike shows and the Daily Mail wotsit, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, the Ideal Home Exhibition.”

“Thought so, in which case no it isn’t Earl’s Court. Why did you ask?”

“It’s where the Aussies used to hang out.”

“Oh–ya learn something every die, Sheila,” I said in a very poor Aussie accent.

“Oh my God, you sound like that woman on the X-Factor,” groaned Simon, this was news, I didn’t know he ever watched it.

“Who, Dannii Minogue?” I smiled.

“No, Cheryl Cole, her with the big hair and the tattoos.”

“But she’s a Geordie, way I,” I tried imitating a Newcastle accent, but the only one I knew was Kevin Whately from Inspector Morse and he had a gentle Geordie accent.

“Exactly. Actually, I like the guy who runs it.”

“Simon Cowell? You have to be joking, I can’t stand him.”

“No, but he’s got a good first name, you have to admit that.”

“I also have to admit for someone with little education and even less talent, he’s made a fortune exploiting the talents of others.”

“He has a talent then.”

“If you say so–here we are, have you got any change?”

“You’re the one carrying a handbag.”

“The Queen carries one but you wouldn’t ask her for loose change now, would you?”

“No I wouldn’t because she’d expect me to pay. One of her ancestors stayed at Stanebury for a whole winter, nearly bankrupted my ancestor.”

“Why, did he eat a lot?”

“He would be accompanied by a retinue of hundreds and they all had to be fed. The various kings of different countries used to go on a royal progress, bankrupting nobles all over the place while saving on their own expenses, but you couldn’t refuse to give them hospitality, that would be sedition or treason, and you could expect what you had to be confiscated by the crown.”

“I’m feeling happier about the Inland Revenue than I’ve ever done.” I said popping the required coins into the machine to make myself a coffee with milk but not sugar. They didn’t do black coffee, just coffee without milk–crazy isn’t it. I remember a black woman asking for a black coffee at a seminar I was attending and they told her they had non-milk coffee. She pointed to herself and said, ‘What am I–non milk?’